“Gloria? We need a rope to hang across this wall as an extra clothesline so we can spread out in here.” Brittany propped her hands on her hips and surveyed the cluttered dressing room.
“You want me to go buy a rope?” Gloria shook the wrinkles out of a red blouse and slipped it onto a plastic hanger.
“No, silly.” Brittany rolled her eyes. “Since you know the janitor, I thought you could go ask him.”
Seriously? She did not just go there.
Brittany tried for an innocent look, but her smirking lips gave her away. “After all, you know where he keeps the mop bucket, so maybe there’s some rope in there too.”
The reminder about her accident with the mop bucket had been deliberate.
And catty.
“Oh, and while you’re there, ask him for a new light bulb for over the makeup mirror. I noticed one burned out.”
Don’t react. Pretend it doesn’t matter. Gloria hung the blouse onto the rack with more force than necessary, lifted her chin a bit, and attempted to glide out of the room.
Once in the hallway, she hurried toward the office area as her temper rose with every step.
After two weeks of rehearsals, she should have earned the respect of her fellow singers and overcome her bedraggled first impression. Gloria might have a few more solos or featured choreography spots than Brittany, but Brittany had been given the responsibility for their costumes.
Why would the other girl want to knock her down?
Must be jealousy.
Which meant Gloria still held the upper position. So as long as she continued to act professionally and did her job well, it really didn’t matter how petty Brittany wanted to behave in return.
The only one who would look bad would be the underling.
Feeling marginally better now that she had a strategy, Gloria approached the supply room. The sooner she found what she needed, the sooner she could return and prove that Brittany’s words had no effect on her.
The door to the office next to it opened, and an old woman in a dull, gray-colored maid’s uniform stepped out, followed by Nick. Once again, the janitor was dressed in jeans and a company T-shirt instead of the expected coveralls.
“Gloria. Didn’t expect to see you here. Allow me to introduce you to—”
“I need a light bulb and some rope.”
His eyes widened at her interruption.
“Oops. Sorry.” Her eyes drifted from Nick’s faded smile to his protective hand on the back of the woman who looked a bit like Aunt Bee from fictional Mayberry. Of course, the man would have to be nice to everyone.
The shorter woman grinned, showing gaps between her teeth. “Call me Granny. They all do.”
Gloria eyed the embroidered name on the woman’s uniform: Rose. Wasn’t there a line in Romeo and Juliet about a rose by any other name smelling just as sweet? Well, she caught a whiff of something, and it wasn’t a rose. Probably body odor.
Over the woman’s shoulder, Gloria caught a glimpse of Gavin Sherwood coming down the hall, talking to someone on his phone. He paused beside them, grinned, and spoke to the older woman. “Hi, Granny.” Then, with a squeeze of Gloria’s shoulder and a wink, continued past them toward the backstage area and the dressing rooms.
Where she should be.
Instead, she had been sent on an errand, and it seemed she couldn’t complete it until she had been properly introduced to a maid.
Gloria forced a polite smile as she stuck out a hand. “I’m Gloria.”
“Pleased to meet ya.” The woman’s handshake was as firm—and as sweaty—as her Southern accent was thick.
“Now, Princess, what was this about a light bulb?” Nick’s voice held a sharp edge, almost as if he were jealous of Gavin’s harmless flirtations … or frowned upon her stilted acknowledgment of the old maid.
Never mind what he thought. She had a job to do. “One of the bulbs is burned out in the women’s dressing room. And Brittany wants some rope to hang along one wall as a clothesline to hold more costumes.”
“How many costumes do y’all have?” He frowned.
“I haven’t counted them yet.” She pointed back down the hall. “I left the others still pulling things out of bags.”
“Hmm.” The rest of Nick’s opinion remained a mystery as he ducked into the supply room to fulfill her request, leaving her alone with the other woman.
A hideous hippie outfit beat an embroidered maid uniform any day of the week.
“Seest thou a man diligent in his business?” Granny’s archaic yet elegant words seemed so out of place near shelves holding boxes of toilet paper.
“Is that Shakespeare?”
The maid shook her head then pointed to the door Nick had opened. “He shall stand before kings. He shall not stand before mean men.”
Sure, the janitor was diligent and did his job, but that didn’t translate to royalty status. Perhaps Granny’s mind slipped away from reality now and then. Gloria had heard it could happen when people got up in years.
“Here you go.” Nick’s deep voice interrupted her thoughts as he handed her a light bulb. “I’ll bring the rope along with my tools in a few minutes, after I walk Granny back to the hotel. I figure you girls might need help so it doesn’t fall down halfway through a show.”
“You don’t have to—”
A raised eyebrow interrupted her words, allowing the truth to sink in. As the janitor, he had likely had to fix things after previous groups used the dressing rooms and therefore didn’t want them to create more work for him later.
“That’s probably a good idea.” She swallowed her pride. “I’ll tell Brittany you’re coming.”
~*~
Author Bio:
Candee Fick is a multi-published, award-winning author.
